


two households, both alike in dignity

by xerampelinae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Sharing a Bed, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerampelinae/pseuds/xerampelinae
Summary: In which the space wolf has a second family. Keith is dealing with it. Then he meets the wolf's other family.-This fic is a call-out for my cat because now I'm his sideho.





	two households, both alike in dignity

When Keith was young, his father had once idly mentioned that there used to be some men who had two families--if his family name was Zhang, his second family would be the aZhangs--a topic which had come up as they watched a neighborhood cat move between two families. He's only thinking about that now because he thinks the cosmic wolf has a second family.

It’s not that the wolf doesn’t love Keith anymore; he’s pretty sure of that, at least, since the wolf still comes home. When he’s not with his other family. And it's not that Keith doesn’t understand why the wolf wants more attention. Keith has a certain flexibility given his work as a Blade, but some of his meetings are too long and boring for the wolf.

Keith reminds himself that he doesn’t want to force the wolf into anything it doesn’t want. Still, it’s a little disappointing to come home and be alone there until the wolf’s internal schedule tells it to retrace its teleportation.

“I hope you picked a good one,” Keith says, stroking the wolf’s face and smiling when it leans into his touch. He’s sure that the wolf gets breakfast with his other family, but the wolf continues to grow at a proportionate rate--it’s considered to be a roommate by the lease because of Reasons via a heavily-redacted application because humans, like most extraterrestrials, are not familiar with cosmic wolves--so Keith’s not worried about the wolf’s health yet.

Keith’s only answer is a particularly soulful look and the press of the wolf’s weight until he’s leaned up against the wall and trapped under the wolf.

“Oh no,” Keith says lightly, smiling down at the wolf, “I guess I’m your prisoner now.”

The wolf only chuffs at him and presses closer still.

-

The mystery of the cosmic wolf’s other family might have gone on forever except one late night after they’ve gone to bed, the wolf sits up suddenly and teleports away. When he hits the bed, Keith wonders sleepily whether he’s been brought along on the ride on purpose or not, snapping awake as he falls. His knees hit a firm mattress as he gets his blade up in a defensive pose over a curled-up figure, facing the door like something might burst through it.

The wolf whines in the ear of the man in the bed; the man twists in his bedsheets, cut-off shouts bursting from his throat.

“You’re alright,” Keith says, low and steady and repetitive. “I have you. You’re alright.”

Keith considers getting up from the bed, lest his proximity worsen the man’s nightmare. There’s a small but careful space between them--without knowing the man or the origin of his nightmares, there’s no knowing whether Keith’s touch will help or harm the man.

It’s a small eternity before the man stills and wakes, all at once. The cosmic wolf hovers before the man's face until the man extends his hand shakily. Then the wolf puts his face in the man's hand, sweet and demanding. 

“Oh,” the man says, laughing shakily. “Hi there, little guy. What're you doing in a place like this?”

The cosmic wolf whines a little, a soft heart-rending noise that belies the wolf’s size. The man strokes the wolf’s face firmly.

“Ah,” Keith says, feeling awkward as he kneels on the bed at the man's back. His knife rests beside his leg, blade hidden in the line of his body. “Hi. I'm from his other family.”

-

There’s a little bit of awkwardness as they figure out the clothing situation--neither of sleeps bare ass naked, but they’re still not wearing much--because when he realizes, Shiro (i.e., the cosmic wolf’s other family) buries himself in the bed sheets like the world's cutest cross between a burial shroud and a superhero trying to conceal his secret identity with only bed sheets.

Meanwhile, Keith is grateful that he’s started sleeping in clothes again. It’s a relatively recent habit, only developed since he found the space wolf and it was clear that the wolf’s favorite place to sleep was right next to Keith. Even if it's, well, not much clothing. He's not naked and that's about as much as can be said.

“I'm, uh, sorry,” the human-cloth musubi says, as Keith stares deliberately out the window. He thinks he can recognize his apartment from having the only empty patio attached to an occupied apartment--if it had just been him Keith would have chosen a much smaller apartment, but the space wolf essentially has his own bedroom and the fullness of the apartment to roam when Keith’s Blade meetings are projected to run long.

“No, I think it's my fault,” Keith says, focusing on what is probably his apartment. “I must have been too close when he teleported.”

“That’s--” Shiro says, words muffled as he tugs something over his head. “I meant, I'm sorry I stole your pet?”

“I'm his just as much he's mine,” Keith says, “as much as he’s yours too.”

Shiro is silent for long enough that Keith turns, concerned. “Shiro?” he says. 

Shiro’s dressed now, fear sweat drying beneath long sleeves and joggers. He looks a lot better than he had in the throes of night terrors; he looks as young as he must actually be.

“It’s late,” Shiro says throatily.

“I know,” Keith says. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Hey, boy, you going to take me back or you going to stay with Shiro?”

The cosmic wolf coils tighter at the head of the bed, deliberately keeping its eyes closed. The tail settles over its snout.

“Alright,” Keith says, and makes for the door.

“Keith--?” Shiro says, startled.

“Yes?” Keith says, considering which access point he’ll use to enter the apartment.

“You’re not going out like that, right?” Shiro says, gesturing at the way Keith is armed and barely covered.

“Oh,” Keith says, turning back. “I can take the window if you prefer?”

“What?” Shiro says. “No! I can lend you something to wear. Do you have a way into your apartment? You don’t really look like you have anywhere to carry any keys.”

“Oh, thank you,” Keith says, blinking. “Please, do not be concerned.”

Shiro turns to the chest of drawers and begins shuffling through it before offering up a short-sleeved shirt that hangs loose, and a pair of running shorts that are improbably small for a man of Shiro’s size but stay up on Keith’s hips.

It’s late enough that Keith doesn’t press back much; if the cosmic wolf has chosen Shiro as his second family, clearly Shiro’s character isn’t a concern. The head of a large family of restaurateurs had once tried to seduce the space wolf away with affection and copious amounts of space lup cheong with the full backing of her clan, and the wolf had been unswayed. Keith will worry when the wolf is gone, but he can trust its choices. 

Keith waits outside the door until he hears the lock turn before navigating back to his apartment. He hopes the rest of Shiro’s night is as dreamless as his own is.

-

The wolf still joins Keith on Blade missions sometimes; he takes to sending the wolf over with a note and a container of food because sending the note alone feels awkward. It’s worth it from the first time, when Shiro sends back his own note-- _Thank you for warning me. s_ \--and an intrigued-looking wolf.

When they’re home, Keith is less surprised when the wolf teleports them over to Shiro’s apartment. Sometimes Shiro’s in the middle of a night terror, sometimes he’s in the middle of his day. Luckily he doesn’t drop a cup the time they teleport over in the middle of Shiro washing the dishes by hand. Keith doesn’t quite sleep over, but it gets close after some of the longer and more intensive missions. He respects Shiro’s space too much though; he knows the value of having a private sanctuary when the world is too loud, especially when an unpredictable element like the space wolf becomes involved.

Then they get home from another mission and there’s a flood coming down from the kitchen ceiling. Keith and the wolf are soaked immediately. Before he can sigh at another obstacle in a long day in a string of long days, the space wolf is teleporting them both away. Shiro’s kitchen is dry, at least.

Shiro stares at them from a chair nearby, book forgotten in his hands as they drip on the linoleum.

“Sorry,” Keith says. “We seem to have a leak.”

Shiro continues to stare, open-mouthed. Keith glances down, plucking at his uniform. Against all likelihood, a suit that can withstand both combat and the vacuum of space is not impermeable to water. For a moment Keith thinks longingly of a shower, then shelves the desire. 

“Hey, we have to go back,” Keith says, bending down to pet the space wolf. “I do, at least, and we can’t leave Shiro to bathe you alone, can we?”

The wolf stares back and doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Keith says. “I can come back and clean it, but. I need to contact the landlord first.”

“I have his number,” Shiro says finally. Keith reaches instinctively for his phone before remembering that his civilian phone is on the kitchen counter, directly in the flood path.

“Oh,” Keith says. “I left my phone.”

Wordlessly, Shiro pulls out his phone and pulls up a contact, an Iverson. The name sounds right, more or less, so Keith presses ‘dial.’

_“What’s going on, Shirogane?”_ a gruff voice barks. “Rent’s not due for a couple weeks.”

“This is Kogane from 306,” Keith says. “There’s a leak in my apartment.”

There’s a pause as if the man on the other end of the receiver has pulled the phone away from his face to stare at it and confirm whose number it is.

“This is not your phone, Kogane,” Iverson growls.

“Correct,” Keith says. “I’ll meet you in front of the apartment.”

“Don’t worry about the wolf,” Shiro says, once he has his phone in hand again. “I’m sure he’ll keep me company just fine while you sort things out with Iverson.”

-

Iverson is somewhat aghast at the level of damage in Keith’s apartment; as time passes and the flood continues, Keith’s uniform is progressively soaked until it clings indecently--Iverson’s words, not Keith’s; Keith sees no point in changing into something that will simply be soaked in turn--and Iverson is dialling up the head contractor on the reno that’s been happening in the apartment above Keith’s. It sounds like someone’s going to end up with a new orifice or two, once Iverson’s done with them.

“Sorry, kid,” Iverson gruffs out. “Looks like you’re going to have to stay the night somewhere else. I’d offer you another apartment but they’re all unfurnished; I’ll look up what the closest hotels are.”

They’re saved by the arrival of Shiro on the scene, walking side by side with the wolf.

“Keith, Iverson,” Shiro says pleasantly. Somehow he looks even more handsome in daylight--at night, shadows carve definition with a master's hand; Michelangelo can suck the dick of whatever deity shaped Shiro--where he has the presence and body of a living god. “Everything going okay?”

“Just figuring out where I’ll stay tonight,” Keith says, shifting uncomfortably in his still-soaked suit. Iverson’s close to Keith’s level of damp, but his flannel and worn jeans take the water differently.

“Oh,” Shiro says, and the cosmic wolf puts his face into Shiro’s palm. Shiro pets the wolf without really thinking about it. “Why don’t you stay with me, Keith?” You’ll be close enough to grab things when you need them.”

“I don’t want to intrude--” Keith says.

Shiro shakes his head, face soft. “I insist,” he says.

“Shirogane is someone you can trust,” Iverson says, like Keith’s not a member of an elite intelligence organization. Iverson had thought that owning and managing an apartment building would be a stable source of income in his medically-based early retirement from the air force and be a welcome, stable change from dealing with classified information. Unfortunately for him, even Keith and the space wolf’s heavily-redacted applications via Blade connections had not corrected Iverson’s misunderstandings.

Humans could be sensitive about others’ awareness of what they considered private information, so Keith had been sure to mention to Shiro that he had some understanding of Shiro’s past. Shiro had looked confused at the time, so the matter had been left to simply lie. Until the present time, of course.

“I know,” Keith says.

There’s an odd silence as Iverson and Shiro look at each other, then to Keith, and back again. Finally, Shiro coughs. “Why don’t you come over, Keith?” Shiro says. “You can borrow some of my clothing and get out of your--suit.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith says, plucking at his suit and feel it peel slowly away from his skin. Iverson eyes them suspiciously as they depart, but Keith has more important things to consider--mainly, finally becoming dry and warm again.

The space wolf teleports them away just after they round the corner. It’s a relief; Keith would rather not relive more uncomfortable experiences from past missions any longer than he has to.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Shiro says, pointing. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started, I’ll find you something to wear.”

Keith nods and begins peeling the suit off, waiting for Shiro to produce clothing. Even with the shock of cool air against his clammy skin it's a relief to come free. There’s a sound by the door--Shiro staring over Keith's shoulder from the doorway, eyes dark and focused. In the night-dark of their first meeting, Shiro must not have been able to see Keith’s scars. Maybe not as many as Shiro, but not few. 

“Side effects of the job,” Keith says.

“Right,” Shiro says, and leans in past Keith to set a bundle of clothing on top of the cabinet. His eyes don't move from Keith’s shoulders--Keith knows he's more lean than most, and it makes his musculature more apparent--and Keith worries that in Shiro’s eyes he's a predator, who he's inadvertently invited into his home. Shiro will have no rest if that is so; and yet this is unconfirmed intelligence and Keith therefore cannot act on it.

“Towels in the cabinet,” Shiro says, voice rumbling low from almost too close. Then he's drawing back, shutting the door behind him. Keith lets the topic fade from his mind, focusing instead on getting out of the suit and into the hot, welcome heat of the shower.

-

“I can sleep on the floor,” Shiro says, shaping onigiri with reverent care. Keith wonders when the last time either of them had prepared a meal for anyone other than themselves and the cosmic wolf.

“No,” Keith says. “I'm intruding. I'll sleep on the floor. It’s nothing new.”

Keith’s progress through the onigiri results in no conclusion to the debate. But when they return to Shiro’s bedroom, standing ponderously in the doorway, the cosmic wolf presses up between them, and teleports them both to the bed. It watches them with interest, curled neatly at the head of the bed, as they bounce off the mattress top. Suspiciously, they’ve traded places to what must be both of their personal preference for side of bed. Keith is tired enough to sink deep and loose-limbed down where he lies.

“This okay?” he murmurs, half-curled up. He has a detailed view of Shiro’s face. Keith wishes he weren’t so tired that his eyes were slipping shut without his intention to do so; Shiro has a nice face, pleasant to look at.

“I'll wake you,” Shiro says, something odd in the way his eyes are. Something not quite closed-off and vulnerable. 

“No,” Keith murmurs, “I'll wake you first.”

He’s asleep before he can hear Shiro respond.

-

Shiro’s breathing is rough and frantic. The room is still dark--it’s been only a few hours, Keith is sure--and the cosmic wolf all but glows in the dark space at the head of the bed, anxiously peering down at Shiro as he works his way through a new night terror.

“Shiro,” Keith says, low and clear. “You’re safe.”

This time it's a shorter amount of time before Shiro’s blinking awake, chest heaving.

“Hey,” Shiro says, like he's coming to an altitude appropriate for cruising. One hand comes up, pushing the hair clear of the sweat on his forehead, then flopping down in the space between their pillows; Keith doesn’t know when his pillow migrated from the bed in his apartment to Shiro’s bed. It was there when he'd fallen asleep, but the mission had been sufficient distraction.

“Hey,” Keith says, hand sliding forward from where it had been tucked up by his chin to tap gently at Shiro’s palm. Immediately and unconsciously Shiro’s hand closes around Keith’s. It feels more like a safety tether than anything else that Keith can think of; he forgets to retrieve his hand and lets it linger, palm to palm. “How you doing?”

“Getting there,” Shiro says. They stay up murmuring together--about the space wolf (now with its snout pressed along Shiro’s temple and rumbling at a soothing temp), about the best times and days for hitting local grocery, about the way the stars fill the sky and space beyond it, and how it feels to belong more there than landlocked and adrift--until they're yawning together and the sky has lightened infinitesimally. Shiro falls asleep in the middle of a nonsense sentence involving space explorer penguins piloting giant shark mechas. Keith falls asleep with him, and when they wake, hours later their hands are still tucked safely in hand.

-

Work on Keith’s apartment drags on. Keith doesn't notice much of it; whenever he turns in search of something, he turns and finds it in Shiro’s apartment. He’s busy, too; suddenly the Blade missions almost double in number. There’s no way Keith’s the one absently moving things over.

It’s suspicious, but Keith’s primary suspect prefers to communicate more in action than anything else. 

So he watches, and waits. One morning, he finally catches the wolf teleport back into the apartment, one of Keith’s few spare outfits in its mouth. It tucks the small bundle into Shiro’s laundry basket, then settles back down in bed with them.

“You could have said something,” Keith says.

The wolf blinks at him. Shiro rumbles sleepily. “Hm?”

“I'll tell you when you're up for the day,” Keith says, voice soft with amusement. 

-

“I think the space wolf has been moving my things in,” Keith says as he watches garlic fry--the beginnings of fried rice--and Shiro sips at a tall mug of green tea (he likes to alternate between tea and coffee, now that he's back on Earth and has the option to). The pan he's using is his favorite non-stick pan which was there (clean!) in Shiro’s cupboard when Keith wanted to start making breakfast.

“Mm,” Shiro says. “Don't worry about it. We can bring over more later, if there's things you need.”

“I'm not sure how much is left there,” Keith admits. They go over to Keith’s apartment and the only things there are the bed--a surprisingly spacious daybed acquired back when the space wolf had been closer to a space puppy--and a drying rack that Shiro immediately presses into service for their shared laundry. Keith still isn't quite sure how that happened; it’s like how sometimes, they go to sleep and wake up pressed up close or curled together. Keith has no problem with this; his body runs hotter than most humans and Shiro says he gets cold at night, sorry for the full-body holds. It doesn’t bother Keith, and he tells Shiro this. It’s hard to say exactly how Shiro responds to this, but the next time they wake tangled up together, Shiro looks much more comfortable. 

-

“Hm,” Keith says, perched on his side of the couch, reading through his mail.

“What’s going on?” Shiro says from the other end of the couch, where he's peer-reviewing an article with his tablet. It’s a particularly poor article, from the way Shiro is wielding the yellow highlighter function and making long notes.

“My lease is up for renewal,” Keith says, with a disbelieving look at the steep rent increase.

“Your lease,” Shiro says, setting his tablet down on the coffee table, “on a still uninhabitable apartment?”

“That's the one,” Keith says. Shiro leans over the space wolf spread across the couch and their laps; Keith shifts to make the paper more readable.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Shiro says. “Maybe ask for a refund of the last month's rent because well, you couldn't have known when you paid rent that it would end up like this?”

“That’s true,” Keith says. “Are you sure you won't mind?”

“You and the wolf are welcome here,” Shiro says.

-

Keith submits his notice to vacate that day, signed off in his hand and the wolf’s paw print.  
The office is confused but accepting.

-

Keith’s stripping out of his uniform when he realizes Shiro’s been quiet since he got home. “Shiro?” he calls, upper half of the suit drawn down past his waist. There’s no response that Keith can catch, and it worries him enough to draw him out of the bathroom. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s sitting still on the couch, staring at the blacked-out screen of his tablet. 

“Shiro?” Keith says again, coming around to kneel by Shiro and gently touch his wrist.

Shiro doesn’t startle like Keith half expects; instead he turns slowly until he’s facing Keith. “Welcome back,” Shiro says dully; this, more than anything sets Keith’s hackles up. Shiro is many things, but he is never this resigned.

“What’s wrong, Shiro?” Keith says.

“The Garrison had had me on a modified leave to--” Shiro says, “-- _recover._ So far they’ve only requested me in a purely academic sense. But they just asked me to return as an instructor. Earthside only. Grounded.”

“Shiro--” Keith says.

“--I’d never be starside again,” Shiro says with a sudden burst of intensity. “I’d never be out there, helping. I’d be here: kept like a relic in careful conditions until I die.”

“Come with me on my next mission,” Keith says.

“Keith?” Shiro says, eyes losing their desperate edge.

“If you want,” Keith says, suddenly nervous. “You might come with me tomorrow.”

“Okay?” Shiro says. “I mean, I’m not exactly sure what you do, but I can come help if you want.”

“You’re still combat and flight-certified,” Keith says. It’s not a question.

“Yes?” Shiro says. “I haven’t sparred recently, but yeah, I am.”

“Good,” Keith says. “Remember, you’ll be flying with the Blades of Marmora, who are a Galra-based organization.”

“Alright,” Shiro says. “I’ll be ready at the usual time.”

-

“This uniform is familiar,” Shiro says, brushing his gloved fingertips over the fabric over his chest. There’s no hiding the strength and breadth of Shiro’s body in a uniform like this; Keith is lithe and dexterous in his uniform beside Shiro.

“Yes,” Keith says.

“But not from seeing you in it,” Shiro says.

“Yes,” Keith repeats.

“Well,” Shiro says. “I did spend a year imprisoned by aliens. This probably isn’t anywhere close to that level of weird.”

“Eh,” Keith says. “We’ll see.”

-

Shiro falls easily in with the Blades and their missions. It’s not all combat--though there is something about returning to combat that seems to make something slide into place, an assuredness to Shiro’s bearing that had been suppressed since his return to Earth--and Shiro seems to find just as much purpose in the humanitarian relief missions.

“What do you think?” Keith asks.

“It’s amazing,” Shiro says. He’s sprawled bonelessly across the couch beside Keith, but he’s grinning. The cosmic wolf settles its snout on the cushion between Shiro and Keith, staring at them both until they reach out and begin to stroke it. Their fingers tangle together at the base of the wolf’s head and linger; the wolf simply closes its watchful eyes and settles more firmly against the couch.

“You don’t have to decide now--” Keith says.

“I want this,” Shiro says. “Just this one day is worth more than the days that preceded it.”

“You co-piloted through a combat zone of which the danger levels were re-classified twice during the span of the mission,” Keith says.

“That’s why we use sentient non-automated pilots,” Shiro says.

“You also mud-wrestled half a dozen Galra sentries,” Keith says, with a trace of amusement.

“That is not something I’ve done before,” Shiro admits, “but I would be willing to do it again.”

“I don’t want to rush you,” Keith says, and “You look happier.”

“I feel happier,” Shiro says. “Thank you, Keith. After I came back, the Garrison pushed back constantly to restrict my duties to purely academic projects. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be doing what I really wanted.”

“Happy to help,” Keith says. “Kolivan mentioned that you would be welcome in our ranks.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what the Blades of Marmora are,” Shiro says, words softened with humor.

“We’re a humanitarian intelligence agency,” Keith says. “What did you think I did?”

“Honestly,” Shiro says. “I was just hoping you wouldn’t turn out to be some sort of Han Solo type.”

Keith studies Shiro’s expression. “I do not understand that reference,” Keith says finally.

“Oh,” Shiro says. “Well, he’s a rogue-type character in a space opera who’s unable to take responsibility for his feelings.”

“Huh,” Keith says, considering this carefully. “Is he a popular character?”

“I guess,” Shiro says. “Some people think he’s attractive.”

Keith hums thoughtfully at this. “Have you decided about what I do?”

“Something much better than Han Solo,” Shiro says. The space wolf’s tail rises, and after a moment, falls--not a reprimand, but a request for attention. Shiro obeys immediately and the wolf settles back into place.

-

“That’s a significant rent increase,” Shiro says thoughtfully. 

Keith leans over the back of the couch to peer over Shiro’s shoulder and hums. “A bigger increase than on my last apartment,” he says.

“Big enough to justify moving,” Shiro says. “But we haven’t really been home much--we’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and also “Want to look at ships with me and Kolivan?”

“Sure,” Shiro says.

-

Shiro’s never looked at space ships in a way that reflects traditional vehicle shopping. _Kore,_ which had arguably been his baby, had been built to specification and Shiro had learned her shape until he knew her well enough not to knock his head on too-low door frames.

On the other hand is Keith. Each doorway is subjected to Kolivan’s approach--he’s taller than Shiro, it’s a valid metric--only after he’s approved its design and manufacture. Then Shiro, Keith, and the space wolf follow Kolivan in what is apparently consideration of its use of space.

Keith notices when Shiro falls in love with a Lion-class ship: a hardy, small thing meant only for a small crew. It’s the kind of ship designed lovingly and constructed with aching care. It’s too expensive to even ask for its price; Shiro composes his face and seals his mouth in a way that hopefully will go unnoticed. Of course Keith notices.

“It’s too much,” Shiro protests. 

“Why don’t we see how she handles first?” Keith says.

Shiro concedes that Keith has a point. It’s the first in a cascading reaction that culminates in their departure from the Garrison and their apartment and Blades and older friends (Matt and Pidge, who are nerds but happy to finally return the favor of helping with a move).

“Huh,” Shiro says, sitting on the daybed with Keith and watching the space wolf coerce treats from an unwilling Kolivan. Matt and Pidge perch on the kitchen counters, laughing and sharing a container of tiny dumplings. The Blades are sharing a platter of high-protein fusion cuisine; their size makes the couch look like a miniature.

“For your home,” Krolia says, appearing and pressing a violet envelope of cash into Shiro’s hands. “Welcome to the clan.”

“Um,” Shiro says. “Thank you?”

One by one the Blades approach and present another violet envelope, or some small item for the home. Even Matt and Pidge bring a gift: a supply of the jasmine tea leaves that Shiro introduced Keith to that they both love but rarely splurge for.

“Thank you,” Keith says, frowning a little with confusion. “But we've been living together?”

“Yes,” Kolivan says, “but this is considered an open declaration.”

“Of?” Keith says. “What are you talking about?”

“My son,” Krolia says. The Holts choke. “Have your elders not taught you that selection of a shared home is the final step of courtship?”

“Apparently not,” Keith says with an unprecedented levelness. 

“Ah,” Kolivan says. “Congratulations on the nuptials.”

-

“Ah,” Keith says that night. “I guess you don't have two families anymore.”

The wolf blinks at him and lowers its head to rest in its usual valley between Keith and Shiro’s pillows. Shiro grumbles sleepily and tows Keith close until he’s crossed the valley and rolled until he lies in the inner curve of Shiro’s body. If he moves now, Keith will escape the full-body hold. Keith stays where he is. Shiro’s grip shifts and becomes still more encompassing; one hand shifts low to grasp Keith’s hip and anchor him into place.

“Good night,” Keith murmurs. It is.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the title is a quote from Romeo and Juliet.  
> Pineapple--I still love you even though you must have some aPineapples somewhere. I'll still feed you when you come home.  
> Thank you to my conspirator Spooky, who is not any cat's sideho.  
> I'm over on twitter as @belovedbacon if you want to say hi


End file.
